


Little Bee, Little Clam

by WanderinTsundoku



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: B-52 and Oyster kids au, Dysfunctional Family, Human AU, Infertility, Past Child Abuse, murdering past master attendant, parenting, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderinTsundoku/pseuds/WanderinTsundoku
Summary: When a young B-52 needs comfort from Borscht, they think about how their family has become divided. Borscht struggles, recalling the events that led to their children's adoption.
Relationships: Borscht/Spaghetti (Food Fantasy)
Kudos: 31





	Little Bee, Little Clam

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the angst mood and in the floof mood so uh both. Little drabble on some headcanons I had for a human au.

The door creaked open as a small hand peeked around the frame. Followed by another hand and a face poking into the room, a soft voice called out for the woman sleeping alone in the king-sized bed. One side of the bed was perfectly made as the woman's half held crumpled sheets and skewed pillows beneath her. Lighty snoring, she held onto a pillow borrowed from her husband's side. 

The boy crept closer to the bed, avoiding the singular floorboards he knew that creaked. He placed his small hand up on the side and rested his chin on the sheets while standing on his tippy-toes. 

"Mom. Mooom," the boy whispered, "Hey mom?" The boy had always been so quiet around the house. Ever since he was adopted into their home, he spoke in a soft monotone voice to himself. 

"Hm?" her eyes peeked open, "Oh little bee what are you doing out of bed? Did you need some more water sweetie?" 

"No," he paused, "I had a bad dream again."

"Come here my little bee, monsters fear mama bear" The woman sat up and scooted over on the bed. She leaned over and picked up the boy, placing his small figure beside her.

The boy snuggled against his mom as she tucked the blankets around them. He sighed at the warmth and security his mom’s hug gave him. His mixed-matched hued eyes looked to the space beside her, raising his eyebrows. 

"Mom why isn't dad with you? He's not around a lot anymore,” he mumbled. All he saw of his father was the early morning when he would rush through breakfast to get to work. He’d often leave him a new math puzzle book every week in place of conversation. 

The eldest brother who had grown used to their father’s absence simply ate and went out to the yard in the afternoon. He climbed up to the treehouse, which they all have built together as a family when they were younger, to finish his schoolwork before Borscht opened the tavern down the road in the evening. The siblings didn’t mind that they were home-schooled, both being evasive to strangers out of instinct. 

"Well little bee, he just has a tedious job and a lot to do for it. He's working hard so that we're comfortable.” Borscht rubbed his back in comfort.

"But you look lonely. Doesn't he know you miss him?” He pouts, “That's... mean. Besides you both work, I don't know why he has to work so much if you both are working." 

"Shh," she petted his hair, "It's alright. It won't be like this forever. There's just some other things to take care of. You’re both very important to us. We just want to see you grow up safe.” 

The boy paused before quickly huffing out, "Oyster said you aren't our real mom… What does that mean?" 

Borscht widened her eyes, shocked that her son found out. She opened and closed her jaw trying to form words, "Well… We adopted you and your brother. It, doesn’t mean that we’re aren’t your parents. But it means, well, you came from another mom and dad. And well, they couldn’t take care of you… My little bee… do you remember your birth dad at all?" 

"No…" he looked down from her eyes, "Not really. Should I?" He tried to think about it, but even as he tried all that came was a blur. He barely recalls the stranger in his memory, appearing here and there but never had he thought to call the mysterious man ‘dad’. 

Borscht hesitated, "No. It's better you don't…. Maybe when you’re older, we can talk about it. When you’re Oyster’s age perhaps." 

“Alright,” the boy had thought for a moment, "But...What was he like?" 

Borscht held her tongue, "Well… it’s complicated. And a talk for another time ok?”. She looked at the young round face snuggled beside for safety. She couldn't tell him the truth about his past neglect. She had no right to draw an image either positive or negative of the man who had betrayed his child. She knew he had the right to know, but it was a collapsing pain in her heart to ever have to tell him. 

She remembered that night when Spaghetti returned from his work. Cradling a frozen small toddler wearing clothes cluttered with holes and stains. His visit to the man had meant to be a reminder for him to pay his overdue debts. However, at the sight of a child locked inside a crib uttering no sounds, Spaghetti deemed that he had given the man one chance too many. 

The man had tried to quickly cover the crib with the tarp which had exposed his crime, however, Spaghetti swung the cover away to the still child. The man quickly tried to escape upon seeing Spaghetti’s expression, but no sooner that he turned he had six bullet holes through the head from Spaghetti’s revolver. 

Borscht had then spent the next few months cradling the quiet child in her lap when he became over-stimulated in his surroundings. She cooked him various foods to overcome his picky eating as he grew able to eat solid foods. She tucked him in every night placing a kiss on his forehead as a seal of protection. 

She couldn't have children of her own flesh blood, no matter how many times she had prayed to a god she gave up on. Even Spaghetti struggled to have enough sperm for a surrogate. Every trip to the fertility doctor and every doctor they went through bared no results. To Borscht, the child in her arms was a miracle. 

Her oldest son who arrived shortly after her little bee, Oyster, was also her miracle. Just as shy as his little brother he kept to himself, but often if he was provoked he would lash out in a tantrum. He always asked her where their father was, why the man who had saved him from the streets was never around.

She knew he wasn't a spoiled kid, but just someone who needed a calming hug. When he started to throw things or kicked a hole in the wall, she pulled him close. Through swinging nails and tugs on her hair she stayed determined. He felt like a pet, someone who was brought home out of pity. However, Borscht consoled him, reminding him he’s their son, someone who has a purpose in their house. 

She rocked him in her lap, promising to ensure that he didn’t feel useless as he had before he was their child. In the end, she rubbed his back and told him she loved him, humming a lullaby through his angry tears. 

"Hey mom,” A soft voice called, “what are you thinking about? You're zoning out again."

Borscht blinked, having been distracted at the memory, "Ah nothing my little bee, I'm just tired."

The boy smiled at Borscht before asking, "We're taking up the whole bed, where's he gonna sleep when he gets back?" 

Borscht giggled, "Well if he wants to act like a bat, he can sleep like one too. On the ceiling." She held the boy close protected in her arms. 

  
  



End file.
